Chapter Text
G’raha was panicking, and healing, mostly healing. Alphinaud and Urianger were knelt across from him, over the body of his darling starlight, who had, like a self-sacrificing idiot, first brought all of them back from the aether, and then, when faced with the embodiment of entropy and death, sent them all back to the ship to face her alone. And when Meteion had flown to the ship, without L’strom, and they had found out that Zenos had joined the fight… well, G’raha spent 100 years learning how to keep himself calm under pressure. Meteion had flown off again and moments later L’strom had appeared in the ship, as close to death as he could get without being dead.
G’raha was dimly aware of the others hovering around them, the Lopporit’s piloting them back to Sharlyan as fast as the ship would go as the healers struggled to keep L’strom alive,
“Will he be alright?” Alisaie asked quietly, kneeling beside her twin, her expression clear that she did not expect an answer. Urianger grimaced as his own energy ran out, collapsing to his knees and being hurriedly steadied by Thancred. G’raha felt tears sting his eyes as his own considerable well dried up and he sat down heavily on the floor of the ship. Alisaie put her hand on her brother’s arm and started to push aether into him until they both drooped and had to stop,
“Have we done enough…?” Alphinaud asked weakly, G’raha forced himself up, checking his darling over,
“He’s breathing on his own, and most of the wounds have at the very least closed,” he said, voice shaking. He could hear the audible collective sigh of relief, “now he just has to wake up,”
“Maybe Father will be able to help us when we land?” Alisaie suggested, “there are plenty of healers in Sharlyan, and after all that he’s done for them and the star that they’ll be happy to assist,”
“He will, as much as Father is almost always exasperated by L’strom, he does like him,” Alphinaud pointed out, G’raha tuned the rest of the conversation out, opting instead to clinging to his starlight’s hand as if he could keep him tethered to the land of the living, so he wouldn’t slip away into the Aetherial Sea,
“How can you keep your promise if you’re not here…”
*
Fourchenault had not been expecting, when the Ragnarok returned and landed in the harbor, to have his children shout out for any healers they could find to come and help. He was running before he’d really processed what they were yelling for. The sight he was met with would surely haunt him.
His children were clustered around the entrance, calling instructions to the incoming healers, in the center of the room was L’strom, laid out on one of the cots that the ship had been supplied with long before the venture to Ultima Thule, clothes soaked with blood, breathing raggedly, Urianger accepting aether from Y’shtola to funnel into the Warrior of Light, G’raha slumped on the other side with L’strom’s hand in a deathgrip while he whispered prayers. Fourchenault dropped to his knees beside the cot, joining Urianger in healing.
More healers hurried in, gathering around the cot to join the effort in dragging the Warrior back from deaths brink,
“That’s all we can do for him magically now,” Fourchenault said after most of the wounds had sealed to fresh scars, “he should get some salves and bandages,”
“I’ll take him to his room in the Annex,” G’raha said, “Ojika keeps a stock of salves and bandages,” Fourchenault nodded and turned to the other healers,
“Clear a path to the Baldesion Annex, it will do no good for people to panic at his state,” the healers nodded agreement, wishing the Scions well and clearing the way. G’raha carefully lifted L’strom into his arms, grimacing at the blood. L’strom’s head hung limply back, and G’raha bit his lip to keep from crying at the sight of his starlight so limp and still.
*
Ojika looked up as the doors swung open and his eyes went wide as Krile stepped through, followed closely by G’raha and the limp body of the Warrior of Light,
“Salve, and bandages,” G’raha managed, voice thick, “and something to clean the blood off him,”
“Right away!” he hopped off his stool and rushed to the cabinets, pulling salve and rolls of bandages out as G’raha carried L’strom to his own room, unwilling to let the other out of his sight. Krile ran ahead to get a sheet to keep blood off things.
G’raha laid his darling on the bed after Krile pulled the bedding away and laid out the sheet,
“He’ll be alright,” Krile assured him and Ojika brought the salve and bandages as G’raha began to divest the Warrior of his battered armor,
“We’ll need to get him a new hat,” G’raha murmured,
“That’s the first thing you say?” Krile said, amusement leeching into her voice, G’raha laughed wetly,
“If I don’t think about things like that, I’ll break,” Ojika came back in with a basin of warm water and clean cloths,
“I’ll go get some fresh clothes for him then,” Krile said, “and I’ll get the twins to find a new hat for him,”
“Thank you, Krile, and thank you Ojika,”
“My pleasure,” came the joint response before the two lalafel left him alone.
It was almost meditative to run the damp cloths over L’strom’s skin, taking blood and dust with it and leaving patches of clean. G’raha bit his lip savagely to keep from sobbing as the fresh pink scars were revealed, damn Zenos, damn him to the seven hells. If… when L’strom woke up, he’d have to ask what did happen to Zenos.
Krile came in as he was bandaging all the fresh scars, his starlight was covered, barely any skin showing through the swath. His face only needed a little, just for a new scar through his eyebrow. She carried with her a simple linen smock and pants, for both comfort and ease. G’raha carefully got L’strom dressed and onto a fresh sheet before he slumped down into the chair Krile pushed over by the bed,
“Come and get me when he wakes up,” she instructed, “and the twins may come to visit in the meantime… most of our friends may come to visit,” G’raha leveled her with a tired look, she laughed softly, “I can keep out the Forum, members of the public, and our other allies with ease, but our friends I cannot,” he sighed,
“Very well,”
“Do try and rest at least a little,” she left the room and G’raha settled down for his vigil, taking L’strom’s hand carefully and kissing the back of it,
“Rest dearest, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he murmured, smiling a little as L’strom’s head turned slightly towards his voice.